Swallowed
by Fake-Ivy
Summary: In a place where white


Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor am I in any way associated with JK Rowling. I am merely using made characters in my own plot.

**Swallowed**

Sigh.

_Another day in the market, _thought the boy bitterly. He sat near half a dozen beautiful "commodities" in a showroom. But while all the other boys were displayed to enhance their beauty, he was in a darkened corner, with a chain from the wall to the collar around his neck. That he was unwanted was peculiar. He stared at his ebony attire, then looked at the placement of the rising sun on the horizon. He did not allow himself the luxury of another sigh.

_It's half-noon. And the last day in limbo begins. _Arms wrap around the boy from behind, one hand pinching his nipple while the other clenches between the boy's legs.

" Ready to earn your keep?" a voice whispers huskily into the ear of the boy. The vibrations from the man's voice caress the boy's ear, sending shivers down the boy's back. The boy turns his head and bites down on the man's earlobe. The man, suspecting the action, smoothly moves out of the way, then backhands the boy. The force of the blow would have sent the boy across the room, but the chain stops him, and pulls against the boy's neck sharply. Blood slowly seeps out of the boy's split lip. The boy looks up at the slaveholder of this show, who was currently wearing a crimson suit, the color so deep it appeared black. The man bends down, jerks the boy's chin up, then sensually licks the blood off the boy's face.

"This is your last day…Draco-kun. If no one buys you today, then I will have to resort to selling you to one of my…special customers. There is one in particular that I think would love to add you to his darkness," said the man with a fusion of lust and malice in his voice.

Draco half smirked and said, " Missing your favorite already, Father?"

The man smirked the same way as Draco as he calmly slammed the boy into the wall and pinned him there. Draco kept his smirk despite the fact that the man's nails were driven deep into his arms. As the boy's blood dripped onto the ground, the man slammed himself onto the boy, grinding his hips against him. The tension builds, then the man stops and savagely rips into the boy's mouth, biting down hard on the lip that was split. As the boy opens his mouth to cry out, the slaveholder plunges his tongue deep into Draco's throat, causing the boy to choke. Draco's father lets go of him and lets him drop to the ground, choking the boy further as the short chain prohibits him from going to his knees.

"Don't try to defy me, **slave**. You lose every time," said the man mockingly as he left to check on others in his collection.

As the boy pants heavily, he pulls himself up slowly. As he leans his head back he whispers, " The dance is not over until one dancer falls, **Lucius**."

The sound of a million people clamoring for something they did not comprehend reverberates in the young man's skull as he tries to find a place out of the noise. Finding a shadowed alley, he breathes a sigh of relief, wiping sweat from his forehead. As he lifts his midnight black hair, his face is uncovered. His emerald eyes constantly move, searching for something. No scar blemishes his face. The spectacles he wears do not subtract from his beauty. Indeed, they add to his allure. Impatiently, he gathers up his hair and puts it back in a queue.

_This heat is unbearable! _Thought the young man exasperatedly. The man had dressed according to what a buyer was supposed to wear, which was silver clothing. Though silver was close in color to white, he was still overheated and was very close to just leaving. After all, he could ask Ron to find someone else to do these routine investigations. But once he had decided to return to the mansion, the dream that he had last night flashed through his mind.

He was running, his hair swishing through his vision and prickling his eyes. It was pitch black, but images surfaced to be admired, only to return to the depths from which they came.

A room decorated with red paint—or blood.

A tranquil picture of a lake.

An azure blue sock.

The images stopped suddenly, and he stopped running. Mist rose from the ground, and a figure walked towards him through it. The figure halted in front of him, and smiled. Then he disappeared as suddenly as he had come, except for the figure's eyes. The quicksilver eyes that shone with so many emotions, it was easier to say they shone with life.

Those eyes now haunted the man resting against the brick wall, and with a sigh of defeat, he pulled out a list.

_Let's see…how about…_

"The Mirror?" the man said, tasting the flavor of the name. Nodding to himself once, he put away the list and stood up from his slouch against the wall. He looked out at the throng of people on the street, and taking a deep breath, he plunged in.

Following directions he had memorized from the list, he arrived at the front of the store. It was aristocratic to its core, starting with the style of the store and ending with the sign of the establishment. While the other stores were gaudily painted to attract the attention of the passerby, this piece of property was made of demure gray stone, and seemed very shabby between all the other stores. That is, until the sun shone onto the stones, revealing the vibrant colors that were hiding under the surface. The sign was engraved with the picture of a gentleman resting his hand on a mirror, touching the hand of the beautiful lady inside the mirror. Emblazoned under the picture was the name, "The Mirror", in a calligraphy form.

Taking a moment longer to assess the establishment, the young man opened the door and stepped inside. The door closed behind him with a sound of finality.

Author's note: I would much enjoy it if anyone could be bothered to review this story.


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